


where sun and shadow met

by blacksandunderstars



Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Parent Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 11:57:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13457778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacksandunderstars/pseuds/blacksandunderstars
Summary: . . . in which Aloy and Elida find some common ground in their grief . . .





	where sun and shadow met

It was late in the afternoon when Aloy finally returned from Kestrel’s Perch. The scattered stone buildings of Brightmarket glowed in the sun, and through the hazy heat their sloping roofs looked the same rusty red color as dried blood.

Palm trees lilted in the wind as she trudged up the dusty path towards Elida’s house. When she reached the bridge bordering the estate she spied Elida herself sitting on a bench in the patio garden, her dress a delicate splash of crimson half hidden behind greenery.

She was waiting, alone, head bowed, between the intricately carved wooden columns of the pavilions.

Aloy’s footsteps slowed. The wooden planks creaked beneath her boots.

Most of the blood had washed off during the swim back, but a few of the more stubborn stains remained, soaked into the knees of her trousers, dappling her sleeves. Despite the water still dripping from her sodden clothes, the smell of death clung to her.

I should have changed before I did this, she thought. But it was too late now. She couldn’t put this off, no matter how much she’d rather be doing anything else; it wouldn’t be fair.

Lahavis was out in the courtyard in front of the house, talking to a pair of Carja guards. Though Aloy heard his voice, he didn’t appear to notice her return, and she ignored him, eyes fixed on the forlorn figure ahead, only pausing on her way for long enough to leave her spear leaning against the stone balustrade bordering the patio.

Her feet felt heavy, like she was slogging through mud.

Elida looked up as Aloy came down the steps into the garden, and from the way her jaw tightened and her eyes darkened it was immediately obvious that she’d guessed what kind of news had been brought back.

Aloy stopped in front of the bench, hesitated, opened her mouth, the first syllable of an apology on her lips—

“Don’t say it,” said Elida, standing up but hardly raising her head. “I know he’s gone.”

The grief was plain on her painted face and in how her voice had gone thin and quiet. Aloy nodded miserably. “I’m sorry. The Shadow Carja found him, but . . . you should know, he never betrayed you.”

The words sounded pathetic in her ears, like the same sort of drivel she’d heard after Rost died—all those hollow attempts at kindness expressed by people who either hadn’t known him or had nothing but contempt for him when he was still alive, a blizzard of meaningless words to bury him with.

Out of habit her fingers went to the pendant tucked beneath her leather jerkin, and in tracing the comforting shape of it she was reminded that she’d brought back something more than just words.

She quickly dug around in one of the pouches on her belt until she found the small metal object Atral had given over before he died. “He told me he wanted you to have this key.”

She held it out and placed it carefully, almost reverently, in Elida’s open palm.

Elida glanced down at the delicate curl of polished metal and closed her fingers over it. Her arm trembled with the ferocity of her grip. “It goes with the lock he gave me,” she said, a sad little smile tugging at one side of her mouth. “He said our lives were locked together.”

Then she mumbled something under her breath, so quiet Aloy couldn’t make it out, and raised her head. The fragile smile had disappeared, replaced by a more determined expression, as if she’d come to a decision. “Thank you for bringing it back, for all you did for us.”

“He said it was worth it, all of it,” said Aloy. Then she frowned, seeing the faraway look in Elida’s eyes. “Are you all right?”

“No,” whispered Elida, giving Aloy a furtive glance before her gaze fell to the stones beneath her feet. “But I will be soon.” 

Her skirts swished as she turned away.

It took a few heartbeats for Aloy to understand, and when she did, she reeled back, horrified. Even the hot sun beating down between the pavilions wasn’t enough to stop a chill from tingling down her back. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

She started to reach for Elida’s shoulder but thought better of it.

“Elida, no. Look at me.”

There were a few more thudding heartbeats before Elida slowly turned back, but she wouldn’t, or couldn’t, meet Aloy’s eyes.

“Look at me,” Aloy repeated, and then finally, hesitantly, Elida did so. And the hollow expression on her face scared Aloy more than any red-light machine stare. “I know how it feels to lose someone like this. But you don’t have to go it alone. You’ve still got your father. He was crushed when he thought you were dead.”

“Crushed?” Elida hissed the word with a bitter laugh. “He still treats me like a perfect doll, his prized possession. No,” she added flatly. “With Atral gone, I’m all alone. It isn’t worth it.”

Aloy pursed her lips, casting about for something to say. But the ornamental plants and stone tiles gave up no answers, and she only gradually became aware that her hand was once more clutching at the veiled outline of her necklace.

What had she been thinking in that moment when she’d fallen, a burning line cut across the side of her neck, seeing Rost disappear behind the cliff’s edge just before the whole world erupted in flames?

She remembered the heat on her face, the concussive thump, the deep hungry roar, and a feeling of helpless panic, a slowly unfolding horror that she could do nothing for him the one time he needed her help.

But nothing else. Not even the feeling of falling.

Then the sound of Elida’s voice was almost startling.

“Who was it,” she said softly, “that you lost?”

Aloy looked up. “The man who raised me,” she said automatically, because that was how she’d gotten used to thinking of him. Rost had always been honest with her about not being her true father, as if that meant something. Maybe it had for him.

Elida tilted her head. “Your father, you mean?”

Father.

Hearing the word, Aloy felt a disconcerting jab of pain, not far from where the pendant hung against her chest. She nodded, reluctantly at first, then more sure of herself. “Yeah, my father. He . . . saved me.” She thought about it for a second and smiled her own sad little smile. “Huh. More than once, I guess. But he died, saving me.”

“I’m sorry,” said Elida. “Would you—would you like to sit?” She stepped aside and extended a hand towards the bench behind her. As troubled as she looked, there was clearly concern there too.

What’s she seeing on my face that has her so worried about me right now? Aloy thought. Whatever it was, sitting suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad idea. It’d been a long day.

She took a spot on the end of the bench. Her legs ached, throbbing in time with her heartbeat, as she contemplated the waterlogged state of her boots. After a moment Elida sat down next to her, the sleeve of her dress brushing against Aloy’s right arm.

Birds and insects chirruped and chattered in the terraced fields stretching out beyond the estate in front of them, while the gentle gurgle of the stream was occasionally broken by a splash. And always there was a background murmur of voices, same as every other town and city. 

Aloy never could quite get used to that, after eighteen years living in the wilds. All the talking. 

“I was wrong, before,” she said, gently.

“About what?”

“About Atral—what he said. The last thing he said. He didn’t say it was worth it. He said it is worth it. I . . . I don’t know if that makes any difference, but I thought you should know.”

Like everything else she’d said since she got back today, it sounded ridiculous. She wanted something better to say, something meaningful, like the words she would’ve wanted to hear after she woke up from a nightmare in a stranger’s bed in the belly of a mountain and somehow knew—knew she was alone in a way she’d never been before.

But maybe those words didn’t exist.

Maybe they died with Rost.

Elida sniffled. When she spoke, her voice was timid and faltering. “Can I . . . ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What was the last thing he said to you? Your father, I mean. You—you don’t have to answer, if you don’t—”

Aloy snorted a quiet, bitter laugh. “He told me to survive, _after_ he tried to disown me.”

“What?” said Elida in a horrified gasp. She sniffed. “Why would he do that?”

“It’s a long story. A very long one. But the important part is that he was trying to protect me. That’s all he ever did.”

“I see.”

And if he hadn’t been so stuck in his ways, in the Nora ways, Aloy almost said, but she choked it back. Her frustrations weren’t what Elida needed to hear right now.

Nothing she had to say was.

She bobbed her head, took a breath to steady herself, stood up, and turned to face Elida. “Please, let me get your father. Will you talk to him?”

For an instant the stubborn set of her jaw made it look as though Elida might refuse, but then she bowed her head. “I guess . . .”

With a last wary glance, Aloy left her there and went around to the front of the house, where Lahavis was pacing on the flagstones. The Carja guards were still there and had been joined by another who was standing back near the estate’s carved wooden doors, pole-ax in hand. Evidently Lahavis had decided on some extra security.

And, considering she’d just left an outpost full of dead Shadow Carja not far down the shores of the Daybrink, perhaps the caution was justified.

He turned to Aloy as she strode up. “I should’ve given you a token for your kindness in finding Elida—” he began, then hesitated, frowning at her expression. “Is . . . something wrong?”

“Elida needs you. To listen. Right now,” she said, trying to put as much urgency as she could into her voice. “Go to the garden, quickly.”

“I will—at once!” he said, and rushed off in an awkward, loping trot. Under different circumstances he might have cut an almost comic figure.

She followed him back into the garden, just long enough to see him sit down with his daughter—to see the look of warmth and concern on his face as Elida began to haltingly tell him about what had happened with Atral.

Then Aloy turned away.

She made it as far as the balustrade, next to her spear, and slid down with her back against the warm stones.

She listened as Lahavis comforted his daughter, and thought of Rost.

What would he have said, if he were here? What would he have told her?

The feeling of missing him grabbed her, like fingers sinking into her heart, pulling her down into the sunbaked dirt. Her chest ached with it. A few tears welled up, which she hid under her hand even though there was nobody to see.

What would Rost have said?

He’d have told me to stop feeling sorry for myself and do what needed to be done, for him and for everyone, she thought. The same as he always did.

So that’s what I’m going to do.

She got back to her feet with that idea burning in her head and angrily wiped away the tears.

~~~

The sun was low enough that the whole western ridge bordering Meridian Village was cast in shadow, and the high stony faces of the distant opposing bluffs were picked out in red and gold by a last few dregs of sunlight.

Aloy stepped out from under the massive gate and surveyed the array of fortified terraces which made up the city’s defensive line. There were people swarming all over them, making stacks of armaments, shoring up walls, running supplies back and forth. Hammers rang out. Voices shouted.

She stood there, listening to the din, and found herself shivering. 

Not that it was cold, but after the comforting warmth of Meridian, with its stones radiating the day’s stored heat, being back out in the open wind was strangely chilling. Or maybe it was simply her nerves reminding her of why all this activity was necessary.

One more battle.

Still, it did make her feel better to see so many people working together, to know she wasn’t alone in this fight. Hopefully it would be enough to calm her unsettled stomach and make sleep a bit easier to find tonight.

Besides, she couldn’t restrain her curiosity anyway. Blameless Marad had mentioned some unexpected allies had turned up to help with the defenses, and she was hoping they might make a difference.

And if not, she mused, I’ll at least know the ground where I’m going to be fighting.

She wandered over to the nearest terrace, dodging around several Carja soldiers along the way. As she hopped up the steps onto the platform, she caught a glimpse of a tall woman in Banuk dress with her back turned and started in that direction, only to stop in her tracks when she spotted a familiar face standing next to the low parapet off to her left.

Elida noticed Aloy staring in her direction and flashed a shy smile which showed a hint of teeth behind her purple-painted lips.

“Elida!” Aloy gave a smile of her own, less shy and more surprised, while she squeezed through a knot of armored figures between the two of them. “I’m pleased to see you, but—what are you doing here?”

“I’m helping prepare for the battle,” said Elida, looking very proud of herself. “If—if Atral were here, we would’ve fought together. I know it. So I’m doing everything I can. Digging battlements, collecting herbs, anything that makes a difference.” 

She held up her hands, showing blisters and dirt under her fingernails, and added in quieter voice, “I can’t take his place. Nothing can take his place. But I’m here for him. For both of us.”

There was no doubting her sincerity. Her jewelry had been put aside. Her ornate Carja face paint was smudged in several places. The hem of her dress was filthy and torn, the underarms sweat-stained. She had dust in her hair and dark circles under her eyes. And despite all that, she held her head high and seemed, if not happy, then at least satisfied.

To Aloy’s eye, she appeared almost a completely different person from the one that’d been left behind in that patio garden however many weeks ago it was now. Less fragile somehow.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, too,” said Aloy. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, better than I was, I suppose. My father is . . . trying his best.” Elida looked away and her shoulders made a forlorn shrug. “It still hurts, though. Does it ever stop?”

Aloy blinked. That’s all she had to do, to conjure up a snow-dusted stone adorned with pieces of armor and other mementos left behind by a few people who’d thought the life it represented was worth honoring.

Then another blink and the vision was gone, leaving only a young woman who was probably seeing her own ghost of the worlds taken away from her. Aloy gently grasped her arm, catching her attention. “No, it doesn’t,” she said. “But it . . . gets buried by everything else, and you figure out how to live with it.”

In the clamor it was impossible for any silence to be had, but neither of them spoke for a while. Together they looked everywhere except at each other. Finally Elida said, “Is the attack going to be very bad?”

“I think so,” said Aloy, relieved to be talking about more comprehensible problems, even if they were ugly ones. “You might want to clear out before—”

“I’m not running away,” said Elida firmly. There was sufficient iron in her tone to brook no disagreement. “I’m going to stay here and fight, no matter what happens. It’s what Atral would’ve done.”

Aloy grinned at her. “I think I understand what it was he saw in you.”

Elida’s cheeks colored. Her smile was proud and flustered. “He’ll always be with me. Sun and shadow still meet for a moment, every dawn and dusk.” Then she held up a finger and turned away. “Oh, I should give you this before you go, to help you in the battle.”

She rummaged through a case of supplies perched on the parapet. After finding what she was searching for, she turned back with a trio of small vials in hand. Aloy glanced at them.

“Antidote, for Shadow Carja poisons,” said Elida, and handed them over. “By the sun, I hope you don’t need any of it.”

“Thank you,” said Aloy, tucking the vials into one of the pouches on her belt. “Elida—”

Somewhere in the distance there was great rumbling crack which made both of them jump. The sound of the explosion triggered some shouting from the other terraces, and the Carja soldiers behind them rushed off.

“Is that . . .” said Elida nervously, as they peered beyond the road at the edge of the jungle a couple hundred yards from where they stood.

“Nah, it can’t be. Avad was positive they hadn’t moved yet.”

And sure enough, a rough cheerful voice shouted, “Just a test folks, no need to get excited!”

Shaking her head, Aloy chuckled to herself. She knew the owner of that voice. Apparently Petra Forgewoman was here too, and up to her usual tricks. It was a miracle the whole camp hadn’t already been blown up.

And Aloy wondered how many other people—out of all those she’d met along the way—had come here. With the Nora, the Vanguards, and enough extra hands to help . . . perhaps the odds weren’t so bad after all. And that fragile thought in turn reminded her: the light was failing fast. If she was going to finish her inspection here and still have time to check the Spire, she needed to get moving.

“I have to go,” she said.

Elida pulled her gaze from the jungle and faced Aloy, lifting her chin in acknowledgment. “What were you going to say before?”

Their eyes met, Elida’s showing a flicker of concern and fear for all that the rest of her radiated pure resolve.

“Nothing,” said Aloy. “Just . . . be safe.”

But before she could turn away, Elida darted forward, stood up on her toes, and kissed Aloy’s cheek. “You, too,” she whispered, then just as abruptly went back to her collection of supplies, ducking her head like she was embarrassed.

From over Elida’s shoulder, Aloy had a clear view of Petra standing on the next terrace down. She was holding a huge cannon and waggling her eyebrows and grinning in a manner which somehow managed to be both suggestive and smug, and also maybe a tiny bit jealous.

Aloy smiled and rolled her eyes, and as she went to find out if the Banuk woman was indeed who she thought, her hand strayed to her cheek. When she looked at her fingertips afterward, they were smeared with purple lipstick.

The color of old bruises, she decided. And the sky after sunset.

**Author's Note:**

> The dialogue options in this quest were maddening. One has Aloy all but browbeat a grieving girl, another has her pulling some strangely disconnected inspirational speech out of her ass, and the last basically has her declare she doesn't know what it's like to lose someone.
> 
> I know it's just a side quest, but I wanted it to be better. Aloy does know what it's like to go through this, and the fact that she lost her father connects perfectly with giving Elida that nudge to give her own father a chance. And then when I was playing and listening to the ambient dialogue between Lahavis and Elida, I couldn't shake off the image of Aloy sitting nearby and listening to a father talk to his daughter. So, this.


End file.
